It’s a lovely idea, but it won’t work

So, I have this week off work, which explains why I’ve averaged something ridiculous like 4 entries a day on my journal, but seriously–a week off work! And here is my ideal way to spend every day:

Wake up around 7 (that’s sleeping in for me, just to put it in perspective), lounge around in my jammies for awhile, make a pot o’ coffee and drink it; see Mitch off to work. Sit out in the back yard with book and cup of coffee (you’ll notice that coffee and books figure largely in my ideal days) until it’s time to shower–probably around 9 or so.

Shower, dress–dressing generally features blue jeans, this ratty black wifebeater that I got for five bucks and wear practically every day, Sambas (cool weather) or black flipflops (warm weather), and a zip-up hoodie in pretty much the same condition as the tank top, only it was free–get out the door and head straight for Grand Ave., where 3 used bookstores sit waiting in a row.

Spend several hours perusing the shelves of all 3 (though I spend the most time by far in Henderson Books) before selecting 2-3 books, then march off to either Fantasia Coffee & Tea, or The Black Drop Coffeehouse, where I while away the afternoon with a cup of coffee and a new book, occasionally opening my journal and flirting with the idea of writing.

Ah, bliss.

Really, this will get old somewhere around Tuesday, and then I’ll be forced to consider the possibility of doing something productive–like, say, cancelling the phone that apparently is still ringing at our old, now vacant, apartment, or calling the insurance company about that watermelon-shaped dent that appeared on the back of our car sometime last week. Or unpacking. Perhaps cleaning.

But, I protest, time off work! Sacred, holy free time! Wouldn’t cleaning seem profane, wouldn’t spending twenty minutes on hold listening to Kenny G seem irreverent, when I could be sipping locally roasted coffee in a cozy atmosphere and pretending that I had absolutely nothing more pressing to do?

I will re-prioritize; I will convince myself that there is nothing more pressing to do.

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